


An Unsolved Riddle

by snarkydarkling



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Murder Mystery, bc personally i think tom is completely irredeemable, but it does not end well to say the least, its not really a pairing, more like tom and daphne have some vague sexual chemistry, who really opened the chamber?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 02:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6685342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkydarkling/pseuds/snarkydarkling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>September 1943 - Tom Riddle has returned to Hogwarts a hero after exposing Hagrid as the culprit behind Myrtle Warren's death. But Dumbledore is not so easily convinced and sends his favourite student detective, Ravenclaw prefect Daphne Bones, to spy on Riddle. Will Daphne uncover his secrets or will she simply get caught in the line of fire?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Daphne's Assignment

_September, 1943_

 

**i.**

The ring had not escaped her notice.

When Tom Marvolo Riddle returned to Hogwarts that year, he donned a clunky ring on his left hand. Riddle was not known for accessorizing his school uniform and being poor he had little money to spend on frivolities. But there it was, a golden ring inset with a large black stone, impossible to miss. Riddle, as he was aptly named, had been as much of an enigma to Daphne Bones as Hogwarts castle itself.

And Daphne hated riddles.

She’d watched him from a distance over the years, in both admiration and wariness. He was handsome with dark tousled hair, quiet watchful eyes, and high cheekbones. You’d hardly find a girl in any house, including Gryffindor, who didn’t fancy him. Professors adored him both because he was exceptionally brilliant at practically all his subjects while remaining polite and charming. In fact, it was hard to find any kind of fault with Riddle (except for his poverty, but that was hardly his doing) and that irritated Daphne to no end.

Clearly, he was hiding something and Daphne was determined to find out what.

 

**ii.**

Dumbledore had told her to stay behind after their morning Transfiguration lessons. Daphne was almost top of the class at Transfiguration, second only to Riddle himself, so she knew Dumbledore had something else on his mind other than academics that he wished to discuss.

“Sit, Miss Bones,” he said, gesturing to a desk in the front row.

Daphne took a seat and waited in silence, while Dumbledore cast a spell over his desk that neatly organized all its contents.

“Now,” he said, in a tone of mock severity. “Once more I must ask you to do some investigating.”

Daphne didn’t attempt to hide her smile. Over the past year, Dumbledore had given her a series of nasty incidents to look into, students that were suspicious, and rules that were broken. It was easier to collect information when you were a student who could overhear some piece of gossip in the common room or coax details from an emotional third-year crying in the girl’s bathroom. And Dumbledore knew this well.

Nearly all the incidents Daphne had investigated so far led back to the same group of secretive Slytherin boys: Malfoy, Lestrange, Rosier, Avery, Nott, Mulciber, Dolohov. Their names rang in her mind like a repeating record. If ever there was a nasty incident or two, it almost inevitably came back to them. And being part of wealthy pure-blood families with parents residing over the Board of Governors, they more than likely got away with it. Abraxas Malfoy in particular had a completely insufferable and vocal father that no one liked to challenge.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and pressed his fingertips together, sending Daphne a long calculating look over the rim of his half-moon spectacles.

“This is an assignment I should rather not give you,” he started. “But I have no choice. It’s a matter of school safety. You’ll recall our incident a few months ago with the Chamber of Secrets?”

Who could forget it? Sometime in the early spring of that year, a third-year half-giant named Hagrid had opened the Chamber of Secrets and unleashed an Acromantula upon the school, killing Myrtle Warren in the process. Riddle had exposed Hagrid’s plot, gotten him expelled, and received an engraved trophy for Special Services to the School. It was all anyone could talk about all summer and for months afterwards.

“Of course. But I rather thought that nasty business was over with.”

“I’d like to think so too,” said Dumbledore, thoughtfully. “But something about it doesn’t quite add up. If I’m not mistaken, I think there’s more to this story than we realize. You see, Acromantulas prefer dwelling in forested areas. When they come across their prey, they trap them in large dome-like webs and then feast upon the flesh.”

Daphne winced. “What’s your meaning, sir?”

“You weren’t there when we removed Myrtle from the bathroom. She was cold as ice. She looked as though she’d been _scared_ to death. There were no traces of webs. No bite marks. Not even a scar. And a girl’s lavatory is hardly the best place for an Acromantula to be making its home.”

“Are you saying you don’t think the Acromantula killed Myrtle?” she asked, incredulous.

“I’m saying that it doesn’t quite add up. You see, when the school faced closure, Tom Riddle asked me if they’d consider keeping the school open if they caught the culprit. And not long afterwards, Tom himself was the one that turned Hagrid in. I believe he may have simply acted too hastily.”

Daphne considered this. Riddle was an orphan and it was common knowledge he hated every second he was away from Hogwarts. Like many students who either had no family or had terrible families, Hogwarts had become their home. If what Dumbledore was hinting at was true, if Riddle had jumped to conclusions and the Acromantula was in no way responsible for the death of Myrtle Warren, then what was?

“Then the monster, sir? Wouldn’t it have attacked again?”

Dumbledore’s lips held the hint of a ghostly smile. “That’s just it. It never attacked again. Curious.”

 _Convenient_ , was more like it.

Daphne narrowed her eyes. It was damn near impossible to get a straight answer out of Dumbledore sometimes. She pulled out her notebook and scanned what entries she’d made prior to the incident in the bathroom. The Slytherin boys, or Riddle’s gang she liked to call them, had been acting antsy and anxious. She’d assumed it was because of their upcoming exams, but perhaps not. Did they have something to do with this?

“You want me to investigate the Slytherin boys again, sir?”

“Just one in particular.”

“Lestrange? He was acting very---”

“Tom Riddle.”

Daphne blinked up at him. “What?”

“Tom Riddle,” he repeated, watching her reaction closely.

“Riddle? But he’s the one who was trying to help the school. I agree, his associations with the likes of Lestrange and Malfoy make him suspicious but I really think we ought to---”

“And who among those Slytherin boys would you say is...the leader?”

“Riddle, I suppose.”

“Strange, is it not? That an orphan with no confirmed pure-blood status, no money, no real political power, no family connections, is the one who they listen to?”

“He clearly has some dirt on them.”

“Blackmail or not,” continued Dumbledore, his tone becoming more serious, “I doubt there is much that they can get away with that Riddle himself is unaware of. So far, all of our investigations have led back to the likes of Lestrange and Malfoy. But if I’m not mistaken, I think Riddle has taken great pains to hide his own tracks too well.”

Daphne simply stared. In all her years at Hogwarts, Riddle was considered the golden boy by practically everyone. If anyone had ever had any reservations about him, his heroic actions in exposing Hagrid had won them over. But Dumbledore clearly wasn’t buying it, for whatever reason. And if a man as brilliant as Albus Dumbledore (the only one Grindelwald was rumoured to fear) thought Riddle knew more than let on, then Daphne thought it was worth investigating.

“What do you want me to do, sir?” she asked, evenly.

“I think this assignment calls for more discretion than usual. I don’t want you to be pulling terrified first-years into empty classrooms to interrogate them about Riddle. Besides, I think you'll see much of him in person already this year. You’re Ravenclaw prefect. You’ll see him at your prefect meetings. You both share many N.E.W.T. classes.  Professor Slughorn has hinted he might be inviting you to his club this year, thanks your excellent Transfiguration scores, I might add. So you’ve another opportunity to _keep a close watch on him_.”

Daphne thought she knew what Dumbledore was trying to say. He wanted her to be his spy; to watch Riddle and report back anything suspicious. That didn’t seem quite as exciting as her previous assignments. Besides, Riddle was a Slytherin and much of his covert activities (if any) would likely take place in the dungeons, where she was pointedly not allowed. But if the school’s safely was in jeopardy, she’d have to take any and every opportunity to keep it safe. Even if that meant using Polyjuice Potion.

“Alright, Professor,” Daphne said quietly. “I’ll do it. I’ll spy on Riddle.”

“I must strongly urge caution, Daphne,” he said gravely. “Riddle is not like the rest of his gang. Professor Merrythought tells me he could hex a man to death if he wanted to. If he finds out what you’re up to, if he feels cornered, he might try to lash out. So please, be as discreet as possible.”  

Daphne could hardly imagine Riddle hexing a pixie, but that didn’t mean he was incapable of deadly spells. After all, he was top of the class. She simply nodded to Dumbledore, signalling the conversation was both over and that it had never happened if anyone asked.

On her way back to the common room, she tried to decipher Dumbledore’s meaning. Riddle had been worried that the school would close so he’d offered up Hagrid as the culprit. Of course, the timing of the whole thing was very convenient. Riddle must have already known about the Acromantula but kept quiet about it, which was odd behaviour for a school prefect. If anything like that had happened on Daphne’s watch, she’d have gone straight to Headmaster Dippet and reaped in the house points. Myrtle’s body hadn’t shown signs of being attacked by an Acromantula according to Dumbledore. And even after Hagrid had been expelled and the spider escaped, the attacks had suspiciously stopped.

Yes, something about the whole mess didn’t add up.

One thing was for sure: Daphne would get to the bottom of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a fair warning, this does not end well. 
> 
> I know sometimes Tom is redeemed in fanon but I could never really get behind that idea. In my head, he is and always will be, a complete and utter sociopath with no conscious whatsoever.


	2. The Restricted Section

**I.**

Riddle was in the Restricted Section, lounging in a chair in the far corner, a medieval book in his lap.

Daphne rolled her eyes. Of course he was. Despite being popular among the Slytherin crowd, Daphne wondered if Riddle secretly hated people and avoided them when he could. She casually strolled between a pair of shelves, pretending to peruse while glancing occasionally though a row of books to spot Riddle glaring right at her.

“Did you come to borrow a book, Bones, or are you spying on me?”

Daphne snorted. “To borrow a book, obviously. You see, this is what we call a library.”

He snapped his book shut and gave her a mocking smile. “Charming. Many girls find excuses to follow me around. I didn’t think you’d stoop to such lows.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Riddle,” said Daphne, turning her head away so he couldn’t see her surprise. Perhaps she hadn’t been as inconspicuous as she thought.  “Some of us have lives to be getting on with. Or did you think the world revolves around you?”

“But you are spying on me,” he said firmly. “Did Dumbledore send you?”

Daphne pulled a book from a shelf, quickly reading its title. _The Book of Screams_ , it proclaimed. She’d no idea what it contained but it seemed about the best prop she could get her hands on as Riddle straightened and walked towards her, his own heavy tome tucked at his side.

She pressed the book against her chest so he couldn’t read the title as he towered above her. Merlin, she’d forgotten how tall he was up close. He stood right in front of her, backing her up against the shelf. For all his charm and good looks, he could be quite intimidating when he wanted to be. No wonder first-years seemed to flee whenever he roamed the halls late at night.

“Like, I already told you,” she said, her fingers twitching to grab her wand. “I came here to borrow a book. And now that I’ve found it, I’d very much like to leave.”

Riddle barely even blinked. The look he gave her was unnerving and Daphne had the insane urge to hex him and run off.

“ _The Book of Screams_ , is it?” he asked, glancing down at the book in her arms. He’d guessed simply from the colour? How long had he been stalking these shelves?

“Yes, it’s for a bit of light reading,” she lied.

The corners of his lip curled in what was almost a sneer.

“Now I _know_ you’re lying, Bones. You can run back to Dumbledore and tell him I’ve engaged in the most unholy practice of borrowing books. Do you think he’ll expel me?”

Daphne glanced down at the book at his side, its title slightly obscured by his hand. _Secrets of the--_

“Maybe. If you’re reading something you shouldn’t be,” she said in what she hoped was a threatening tone. It didn’t seem to have the intended effect. Instead, Riddle stepped back slightly and gave her a smile that was sickenly sweet.  

“You’re the only other student with unlimited access to the Restricted Section and the last time you were here, you took out _Most Potente Potions_. Polyjuice, I presume? Tut tut tut, Bones. You could get expelled for that. If I went to Dippet and told him what I saw, he’d send you packing tonight.”

Damn Riddle to hell. How did he know? Daphne wondered if Riddle had already mastered Legilimency. Still, if he had read her mind, she would have felt a prickling sensation in her head. It took a masterful Legilimens to pry a mind nonverbally and undetected and as clever as Riddle was, no one mastered it that quickly.

“Now who’s the spy? Do you honestly have nothing better to do than look up _what books I take out of the library_? Did you forget to attend Slytherin’s daily brooding session in the dungeons?”

“I’m prefect, it’s my job to make sure everyone is on their best behaviour.”

“I’m prefect, too.”

“Yes, but you’re not a very good one.”

Daphne was tempted to accuse him of keeping the Acromantula business a secret, but she didn’t want to give herself away so early. Besides, she still needed proof that he knew about it. At this point, it was just a guess at best.

“Of course, I forgot. Not all school prefects have trophies with our names on them. That was very brave of you, Riddle. I wonder how you caught the culprit so quickly when our professors failed?”

“Intuition,” he said flippantly, his eyes roaming her face for any hint of betrayal. “You’ll find I can read people fairly well.”

Daphne thought she felt the slightest prick of a finger reaching into her mind and she instinctively looked away and walked past him. She’d certainly have to practice her Occlumency before she ever looked at him straight in the eyes again. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have to read this book. Goodbye, Riddle.”

“Goodbye, Bones,” he said with a smirk. “Oh, and I wouldn’t open that book if I were you.”

Daphne had no idea what he meant but as soon as she left the library, _The Book of Screams_ in tow, she felt instantly better. Riddle had given her the creeps. Knowing all those things about her, accusing her of spying, cornering her against the shelves? Dumbledore was right. He wasn’t like the rest of his dimwit Slytherin gang. Riddle was crafty, he was clever, and he knew how to get under her skin.

He as good as knew she was Dumbledore’s spy. Her reputation for consistently hunting down members of his gang for various offenses probably hadn’t helped. If she wanted to get information, she’d have to think up more covert ways or Riddle would surely hex her. Or worse, get her expelled.

 

**II.**

 

Dumbledore was less than pleased when she told him what happened. She could tell he was disappointed with her lack of caution. He had urged her to be careful, after all.

“Did you find out what he was reading?”

“No, I couldn’t make out the title. But I reckon it was something suspicious. He was paranoid from the moment I spotted him with it. I’ll go back to the library tomorrow and see if I can find it again. It was pretty thick tome, hard to miss.”

Dumbledore nodded. “It might be best to lay low for now. In the meantime, see what you find out from Hagrid.”

Daphne looked up from scrawling in her notebook. “Hagrid, sir?”

“Not many of the students are aware and their parents would not be pleased if they heard. But I do not truly think Hagrid meant any harm with the Acromantula. I believe him to be innocent of the whole affair. Besides, Ogg is becoming old and he needs as much help as he can.”

Daphne furrowed her eyebrows. “You gave Hagrid a job? At _Hogwarts_? As gamekeeper?!”

“Gamekeeper’s assistant. And it was Dippet who finally relented, after much pestering on my part, I’m afraid. Hagrid’s wages may be low but I do strongly believe in second chances. Don’t you, Daphne? After all, a disgraced adolescent half-giant can hardly expect to find employment anywhere reputable.”

Daphne figured this was the moment Dumbledore was going to say something both cryptic and sentimental and therefore stood up to take her leave. “I believe in truth, but perhaps that’s my flaw as a Ravenclaw. If he’s still on the grounds now, I can ask him a few questions before class.”

“Very good, Daphne. Try to avoid Riddle for now.”

When Daphne reached the old stone hut sitting at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, she spotted Hagrid emerging from the back, a bottle of flesh-eating slug repellent in hand. He was enormous for a fourteen year old, towering almost as tall as the hut with mangly black hair and smelling distinctly of sweat and dung. He stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted her and simply stared. For the sake of civility, Daphne tried not to swat at the air in front of her nose.

“Rubeus,” said Daphne pleasantly. “I’m a friend of Dumbledore’s. Daphne Bones. Nice to meet you.”

“Oh, a friend of Dumbledore’s, eh? Why didn’t yer say so? I thought yer were coming to scream at me.”

“Do people do that often?”

Hagrid turned bright as a tomato and looked at the floor. “After all that happened last year, I’m not what yer call...popular.”

“I had a few questions about that, actually. Dumbledore’s convinced you’re innocent but I think I’ll hold my judgement for now. What can you tell me about that Acromantula you were harbouring on school property?”

“Aragog? He never killed no one! I bought him as a baby, thought I could raise him as a pet. But then Riddle got to knowing ‘bout it and opened his big mouth! Said I were growin’ werewolf pups under me bed or wrestlin’ trolls in the forest. I think he always hated me for being….well, for being half-giant.”

Daphne considered this, writing it down in her notebook. “When did Riddle find out about the Acro--er, Aragog?”

“He knew I had a pet spider because all the boys in me dormitory kept complainin’ about it and a few reported it to him during Christmas, I think. But he didn’t say nothin’ until poor Myrtle.”

“And where is Aragog now?”

To her surprise, Hagrid suddenly started sobbing. “He’s all alone in the forest, init? With no one to look after him! I had to let him go, I had to! They were gonna kill him, they were! Sometimes I leave him some scraps in the forest so he won’t go hungry.”

“And you’ve seen him in the forest?”

Hagrid sniffed. “Yeah, he making it out okay but what if the other animals be mean to him? He’s made a nice web for himself but he got no friends and----”

“Alright, I think that’s all I needed to know. Good day, Hagrid.”

Daphne left Hagrid standing somewhat perplexed as she climbed up the slopes to the castle. She hadn’t needed to hear the whole sob story of Hagrid’s pet Acromantula to know Hagrid was innocent. It was clear he was not the brightest student and the idea of him being the Heir of Slytherin, capable of locating the legendary Chamber of Secrets, controlling the monster within and unleashing it upon some poor unfortunate soul was, quite frankly, ludicrous.

Aragog could not have been the rumoured monster within the Chamber. By Hagrid’s own admission, he’d bought the Acromantula when it was just a baby. The real monster was said to be ancient, able to live up to centuries. Hagrid had been fiercely protective of the spider, letting it loose into the Forbidden Forest than risk it getting killed by school authorities. How much more protective would he be of a human life?

Her thoughts, naturally, came back to Riddle. Now she had proof that Riddle had known about the Acromantula perhaps as early as December of the previous year. Yet, he’d waited until the school practically faced closure to bring attention to it. Then again, it was possible Riddle had knowledge of many illicit activities but chose to ignore them. After all, his own cronies had a long list of offences in their school records. Had he simply acted in his self-interest to keep the school open or was there more to the story than that?

There was something Dumbledore wasn’t telling her. Why did he find Riddle so suspicious, anyway? Did he know something about him, perhaps from a time before he’d come to Hogwarts, that made him dubious of Riddle’s character? Or had Dumbledore finally lost it?

 

**III.**

 

She returned to the library the following morning to hunt down the medieval tome Riddle had been reading but discovered it was nowhere to be found. When she asked Madam Paige about it, the librarian had no idea what she was talking about.

“I don’t think Tom has taken any books out of the library, my dear. I haven’t seen him in weeks.”

“What are you on about? He comes here nearly every other day. Almost always to the Restricted Section.”

Madam Paige shook her head. “If any student was spending that much time in the Restricted Section, they’d be up to no good and I’d have scared them off faster than they could say ‘hippogriff’.”

“Are you sure you don’t remember? I was in the Restricted Section just yesterday when I spotted him the corner reading that book. Don’t you keep records of who goes in and out?”

“Of course, we keep records! We don’t just let anybody waltz in there! Here, there’s your name when you signed in and yours when you signed out. As you can plainly see, you were the only visitor yesterday. My dear, are you sure you’re not coming down with something?”

Daphne narrowed her eyes. Madam Paige had the eyes of a hawk and the memory of an elephant. There was simply no way anyone could have walked into the Restricted Section and taken a book without her noticing. Besides, the Hogwarts Library was fitted with all kinds of anti-thieving jinxes and hexes. Anyone would be mad to try and steal a book, especially one from the Restricted Section.

“Um, no, I’m quite fine thank you. You’ve been most helpful.”

Daphne scanned the shelves one last time before giving up and walking back to Ravenclaw Tower. She knew she wasn’t crazy. She _had_ seen Riddle yesterday in the library. They’d had an entire conversation. But his name wasn’t in the records and Madam Paige had no memory of ever having seen him in weeks.

With a lurch in her stomach, Daphne realized Riddle had almost certainly Obliviated her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I worry this fic is a bit predictable given that everyone knows the true events of what went down with the Chamber of Secrets in the canon. Still, I hope I can make the read worthwhile.
> 
> I apologize for Dumbledore being so OOC. He's always been a hard character for me to pin down. On the other hand, I hope Tom was sufficiently shady af xD


	3. Potions and Hexes

**I.**

Tom Marvolo Riddle was in good spirits the following morning. Daphne watched the Slytherin prefect greet passing students good-naturedly and respond to Patricia Parkinson’s not-so-subtle flirting with an easy smile. 

Dumbledore, however, was casting him a wary look from the staff table during breakfast. Daphne was sure Dumbledore knew something substantial that incriminated Riddle in some way. If only he’d tell her straight out instead of sending her cryptic, non-committal hints.

Beside her, Celestia Fawcett dug her elbows into Daphne’s side, giggling deviously. “If you’re going to stare at Tom all morning, at least be discreet about it. You don’t want to give Slughorn any more reason to play cupid, do you?”

Daphne shot her friend an annoyed look but Celestia was too busy shovelling scrambled eggs into her mouth to stop herself from laughing any louder. Up at the staff table, Daphne could see Professor Slughorn raising his glass at her and winking.

Daphne scrunched up her nose and quickly looked away. Since last year, Old Sluggy was labouring under the ridiculous delusion that she and Riddle fancied each other and was now using any excuse he could to pair the both of them up during Potions.

“If you must know,” said Daphne, trying her best to ignore Slughorn, “it’s another assignment from Dumbledore.”

Celestia waggled her eyebrows at her. “Honestly, and you wonder why the Slytherins call you ‘Dumbledore’s pitbull’. What, pray tell, does this assignment consist of?”

“Dumbledore’s asked me to keep an eye on Riddle---”

“---don’t we all,” added Celestia with a smirk.

“---but it looks like I’ve been too obvious.”

“Well, if you need additional help to  _ keep an eye on him _ ,” said Celestia, standing up, “I’ll be more than happy to oblige.”

Daphne rolled her eyes at her giggling friend as they made their way to Potions. She was not looking forward to dealing with Slughorn so early in the morning.

 

**II.**

 

The dungeon corridor was gloomy and cold. Naturally, the Slytherins appeared to be right at home. Daphne watched with interest as Riddle idly encircled the ring on his finger while Lestrange muttered something in his ear that seemed to please him. She still hadn’t worked out where he’d gotten the ring from and why he was so attached to it. The rest of his gang was oddly proud and wary of the clunky accessory. More than once, she’d spotted Abaraxas Malfoy swallowing uncomfortably while starting at. 

Daphne had to wonder if Riddle likened himself to the Pope and forced his cronies to kiss it before bed. She let out an involuntary snort at the thought, earning her a few choice glares. Riddle merely raised his eyebrow at her. Before she could respond, however, the large iron door to the potions classroom swung open and Slughorn began ushering them in.

Daphne quickly pulled Celestia to her side and the pair of them sat at a worktable towards the front, as far away from Riddle as they could manage. She hoped to give as little incentive to Slughorn as possible.

“Oho! It’s nice to see my favourite students in the morning. I do hope you’ve accepted my invitation, Tom! It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Of course, sir,” said Riddle in a tone that Daphne suspected was mock humility. The gesture did wonders to Slughorn, who smiled so wide his enormous mustache threatened to reach his eyes.

“And you too, Daphne,” he said, passing by her table and giving her one of his annoying winks. “It’s not often we get many bright young ladies to accompany us!”

Daphne clenched her jaw at his condescending remark and tried to plaster on a sweet smile. “I’d love to come, Professor, but I’ll have to check my schedule to see if I’m free.”

The last thing she wanted to be doing with her Friday evening was getting holed up in Slughorn’s office with whomever he deemed was worthy of his company. In most cases, it was the haughty rich and well-connected with a fair sprinkle of irritating Slytherins.

Slughorn was mildly surprised at her reply but recovered quickly, edging closer to their table to mutter, “Ah, I see, Daphne! Don’t want to appear too eager to our Mr. Riddle, eh? Playing hard to get! I think this will be a very interesting meeting. Do try to wear something nice!”

As Slughorn turned away, Daphne felt the urge to vomit into her cauldron and then chuck it at him. Celestia’s shoulders were shaking with laughter and she nearly wanted to hex her as well. When the chatter in the room had quietened down, Slughorn revealed that they would be working in pairs to make the Draught of Living Death.

The concoction was damn near impossible to get perfect judging from the number of times Daphne had heard upper years complaining about it. She’d no sooner left her seat to grab her ingredients when the door to the classroom swung open again and Slughorn put up a hand with a delighted look on his face that made Daphne’s stomach turn over.

“Oho! What’s this? It appears poor Mr. Belby has arrived late and has no partner!”

Merlin help her. Daphne turned around to glare at Belby but he hardly noted. Slughorn stepped away from his desk and ushered Belby in. The whole class had now stopped to stare.

“Miss Fawcett,” Slughorn called, with what appeared to be a practised wave of his hand.  “Would you be so kind as to help Mr. Belby get all his ingredients? We wouldn't want him to fall behind!”

Daphne silently pleaded with Celestia to refuse but her friend must have been in cahoots with Slughorn because she shot her a devious grin and said, “Yes, sir.”

Slughorn then turned around to face Daphne, an obnoxious twinkle in his eye. “Oh, how unfortunate! Now Miss Bones has no partner! Why don’t you join Mr. Riddle at the back?”

“I’m quite sure Mr. Riddle had manage without me, sir---”

“Nonsense! Nonsense! We want everyone to have a fair try at this potion, don’t we?”

Daphne reluctantly picked up her things and walked towards the back of the classroom. Riddle famously did not work with a partner in Potions. He complained that other (stupider) students slowed him down and that he worked better on his own. Daphne didn’t contradict this assessment. Back in their second year, when Riddle was forced to work with the academically hopeless Lavinia Brown, she’d nearly butchered all his potions and his cauldron to boot. Afterwards, she suspiciously came up with a terrible case of boils to the face and hadn’t been back in school since. The rumour in Slytherin was that Riddle had hexed her.

Shuddering slightly at this memory, Daphne was not exactly filled with confidence as she slid into the seat beside the Slytherin prefect. She half-expected him curse her on the spot, but instead he simply nodded in acknowledgement. That relieved some of her tension but there was still an hour of class to get through and the potion they were making was disastrously difficult.

The class scrambled to get their ingredients and soon as the last of them had returned to their seats with the correct amount of Sopophorous beans, Slughorn started up the hourglass and told them to begin. After a quick rustle of pages, the atmosphere in the classroom had quickly turned into anxious tension.

“I wonder how many Galleons Slughorn paid to Belby for showing up late just so he could stick us together,” Daphne remarked when the silence between them was bordering on the uncomfortable. 

If Riddle was silent, it meant he was thinking. And if he was thinking, it may not have included any particularly charitable thoughts towards her.

He didn’t look up from where he was cutting up his Valerian roots with an almost serene grace. “Don’t pretend like it doesn’t please you to be standing so close to me.”

_ The nerve! _ Did he think she was waiting for the day when he so much as  _ breathed _ in her direction?! Daphne was beginning to see red.

“Of course. That’s why I make a daily effort to sit as far away from you as possible.”

“Like yesterday in the library?”

“ _ I already told you _ . I was taking out a book. That’s what one does when they visit the library!”

Riddle appeared unconvinced as he finished up chopping the last of the roots and added them to the cauldron. Daphne caught sight of that ring again as his hand passed across her vision. Now that she was closer, she noticed that the black stone had some sort of symbol engraved into it: a triangle containing a circle, both bisected by a single line. It looked ancient, certainly not the kind of ring you could buy these days.

“You wouldn’t want to ruin such a nice ring by wearing it to Potions,” she said casually as she attempted to extract juice from a stubborn Sopophorous bean.

Riddle stared at her suddenly, almost as if he’d realized she’d been standing there the whole time. Daphne didn’t know what to make of this reaction and began to blush stupidly as the bean she was trying to cut up kept evading the blade of her knife.

“It’s a family heirloom,” he said at last, turning away now somewhat irritated.

“I didn’t know you knew your family,” she said evenly, realizing she was now dredging into dangerous territory. Still, Riddle was an orphan and if the ring was an heirloom, why hadn’t he worn it before?

“I think you’ll realize there’s a great many things you don’t know about me, Bones, but one thing you  _ can _ know is that if you mess up this potion, you’ll be sorry.”

“Are you going to hex me with boils?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking.

“I’m not sure that boils to the face would make much a difference for you.”

Beside them, Lestrange and Malfoy snickered at her. Daphne tried her best to ignore them as she continued to fight with the Sopophorous bean. Slughorn suddenly announced that (somehow) only half an hour remained. Time always seemed to magically shrink during Potions class.

“Use the side of the knife to crush the bean, you imbecilic troglodyte,” he said, grabbing a handful of the beans and doing just that. Daphne watched in amazement as juice began pouring freely from the sides of the crushed bean.

“It appears even plant seeds are subject to your infectious charm,” she said sarcastically, copying his technique and getting even angrier when she discovered it actually worked.

She added the juice and stirred the cauldron, pleased to discover the potion was turning the exact shade of lilac that was described in the textbook. Perhaps she wouldn’t get her face hexed off after all. Riddle appeared unimpressed with their progress and focused his attention instead on crushing asphodel roots.

Daphne took a moment to scan the room. Lestrange and Malfoy’s potion had turned into some sort of green sentient slime that was attempting to make its way out of the cauldron. Celestia and Belby had apparently burned a hole through the bottom of their cauldron and a pair of Gryfindors at the front of the class were attempting to put out the purple flames that had engulfed their work station. Really, it was a miracle that their potion had turned so well. She didn’t know what fault Riddle had with it. 

She gathered together the powdered root of asphodel and tossed it into the cauldron when she felt the painful press of a wand at her back.

“What,” said Riddle, in a tone that turned her blood to ice, “did you do?”

It was only then that Daphne realized the advantages of sitting at the back of the class. Here, there were few students to witness them and anyone close enough to watch them were Riddle’s cronies themselves. Slughorn had his attention fixed by the flaming cauldron at the front of the class, whose fires had now turned a nauseating pink.

“I added powdered root of asphodel, just like the instructions stated,” she said, trying to wriggle away from his wand.

“Did. You. Weigh. It.” Each of his words sounded like venom.

Daphne watched the potion bubble and turn into a colour much like vomit.

“I thought you weighed it,” she said carefully, but the wand at her back only poked painfully further until it felt like she was being stabbed.

“Five minutes!” announced Slughorn from the font. It was much too late to start again.

“Tom, I’m sorry!” she said quickly, wondering if there was anyway to repair the damage. “I didn’t mean to, it was just an accident.”

He idly added the last piece of Valerian root and they both watched as the potion started emitting noxious black fumes.

Riddle cast her an icy glare that could freeze the fires of hell. Daphne swallowed the lump in her throat.

“It’s too late for apologies.”

Slughorn made his way around the classroom, assessing the damage. Judging from the frown growing deeper on his face, it seemed no one had succeeded. Daphne was relieved somewhat as she could only imagine what kind of fury Riddle would unleash on her if some other student had beaten him. When the professor finally reached their station, he looked thoroughly disappointed.

“Not up to your usual standards, eh, Tom?” he said, but with a knowing smile. “Yes, this tends to happen when you’ve added too much powdered asphodel root. But I can certainly excuse this one mistake! After all, it can be so difficult to focus while in the company of a distracting young lady!”

Daphne wanted to shove their poisonous concoction down Slughorn’s throat, at least before Riddle murdered her himself.

“I can assure you, professor,” Riddle replied with an handsome smile, “it certainly won’t happen again.” There seemed to be an underlying threat in his words, mostly directed at her, but Slughorn didn’t notice it.

Daphne was waiting for the opportune moment when they were dismissed so she could run out the door before Riddle hit her with something nasty. But when Slughorn finally sent them away, Riddle calmly (perhaps too calmly?) gathered his things and gave her a smile that was sickeningly sweet.

“Have a good day, Bones.”

_ No. _ This was far worse than she’d feared. It would be better if he just hexed her on the spot and got it over with. Now she would be spending the rest of her day looking over her shoulder, waiting for some slow, torturous punishment to befall her.

“Remember what I said, Tom,” she pleaded. “It was an accident.”

“So will be whatever happens to you, I’m sure.”

With that, he glided out of the classroom, his black robes billowing sinisterly behind him. Daphne was left wondering how on earth she’d convinced herself she was solely responsible for their joint mistake.

 

**III.**

 

Daphne could hardly pay attention to the rest of her classes, especially if that class contained Riddle. Occasionally, she would spin her head and look in his direction, mentally preparing herself to be hit with some horrible hex or other but nothing came. 

Riddle seemed too pleased for comfort. Daphne wasn’t sure if it was because he was fantasizing about new methods of torture or if it was because of whatever Lestrange kept periodically whispering to him about. Clearly, his cronies were up to something but unless Daphne somehow got access to the Slytherin common room, she wasn’t about to find out what.

When she returned to Ravenclaw tower, she took up a seat by the fireplace where Celestia had already started on their Astronomy homework.

“If wanted to make myself invisible, how would I go about doing so?”

Celestia raised an eyebrow at her before continuing to scribble on her parchment. “And would this path of enquiry have anything to do with your assignment?”

Daphne signed, casting furtive glances around her to ensure no one was listening too closely.

“It might. I’m fairly certain Riddle is planning something with his friends and I need to get into the Slytherin common room to find out what.”

“And you’re going to make yourself invisible, are you?”

“Well, it’s either that or Polyjuice Potion and quite frankly, I neither have the time nor patience after what happened last time.”

“I think Polyjuice is your  _ only _ option. Invisibility charms may be straightforward for inanimate stationary objects, but on a living person? Much more complicated, not to mention it would be a complete disaster if you got it wrong.”

Daphne nodded. She could only imagine the look on the Slytherins' faces if they found ‘Dumbledore’s pitbull’ trying to infiltrate their secrets. No, that almost certainly would not end well.

“But I don’t have the time. It would take a month to brew and by then, they may have already finished whatever it is they’re up to.”

“Well,” said Celestia, with a mischievous grin. “You could always steal it.”

“From where exactly? It’s not as if Hogsmeade is selling it every other weekend.”

Celestia looked at Daphne as if she was daft. “From Slughorn’s office, you nimwit! Honestly, do you pay attention to anything around here?”

With a look of dawning realization, Daphne remembered that Slughorn ran an apothecary of sorts from his office, mostly consisting of leftover potions from classes that he no longer had use of. The sixth year curriculum almost certainly included Polyjuice Potion so it was sure to be in his personal stores somewhere.

“Oh no,” said Daphne rolling her eyes. “That means I have to go to Slug Club on Friday. There’s no other way I can possibly break into his office without getting caught.”

Celestia grinned. “Then problem solved. You’ll just have to steal it while no one’s looking.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed that chapter! :D


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